Purple scarf
by Courtney.Wortney
Summary: Post Reichenbach. When someone breaks into the Holmes country manor, dark secrets are reveled. People are out to kill Sherlock, and John must help figure out why before Sherlock falls into the clutchs of a rebuilt underground crime organsation. Can John save Sherlock from not just the organsation but his secrets aswell? Could Sherlock's history be the answer?
1. Prologue

This is my first FanFiction for Sherlock. I write for Harry Potter but decided to expand. I did have this story posted a little while ago but I took it down and decided to add some things and make some changes. Enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sherlock *sigh* but I don't.

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_They say some discoveries should have never been discovered, that they should have been left to rot with time. But once you uncover something it's hard to keep it to yourself and you find it in every corner of your mind sometimes being forgotten until something blows the dust from it and it's uncovered once again._

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Prologue 

Will wrapped his coat further around him to keep out the bitterly cold wind and he pulled his scarf tighter. His hand tightened protectively over the small rusty key hidden in the palm of his hand. The snow crunched underfoot as he made his way over the spacious fields surrounded by towering trees that separated the large manor from the rest of the countryside. It took several minutes to cross the field via the familiar winding gravel path and reach the manors courtyard. It was deserted as Will had expected, untamed undergrowth had taken over and choked the once beautiful red roses and the once perfectly clipped grass had been left abandoned to grow wild, it now reached Wills shins; the house had been unoccupied for three years since the owner's younger son died. The house itself hadn't deteriorated. Will hadn't been to the manor in twenty years the last time he was inside weighed heavily on his mind now as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bobby pin, Will had experience breaking into places he shouldn't be, he wriggled the pin in the lock until he heard it click as he turned it. He threw open the large oak door and stepped inside; dust swirled at his feet like tiny twisters. Twenty year old memories flashed before his eyes as he stared through the darkness of the entrance way. He could just make out the staircase in the dark and the four doors either side leading to various other rooms. There was a faint aroma of wood still in the air from the wooden panelling that lined the walls. Will closed his eyes and remembered why he was here.

"_Y__ou have ruined everything you stupid boy!" A furious familiar voice shouted from the kitchen._ _Will stopped mid conversation with his college and both men looked towards the sound. "I wasn't going to do…" the boy was cut off by shattering glass "are you happy now? You have figured out your little mystery, are you happy?!" the man shouted louder. Will looked at his college who shrugged and kept walking, Will was hesitant but didn't want to be caught listening, he hurried after him but stopped in horror when the boy howled in pain, he had not heard the boy talk louder than a mumble and he had never heard him make such a noise. His acquaintance seemed not to hear and continued towards the door but Will couldn't take another step, he prayed Victoria would return from her night out so the poor boy wouldn't be left alone. His college stopped and turned around to face him. "Are you coming Will?" he asked ignoring the disturbance from the kitchen, Will shook his head and gritted his teeth. He liked the boy, they had met on a few occasions, he was intelligent and Will liked his witty comical timing and he didn't deserve this. He spun around and raced towards the kitchen. _"_Will!" his college shouted from behind him but he didn't stop until he reached the kitchen he heard the front door shut behind him, how could he ignore it? He was sick of ignoring it. He reached the kitchen and threw the door open._

"_Eddy!" he shouted firmly. Both Eddy and the boy froze and stared at Will in shock, the boy had been crying, his eyes were red and swollen but Eddy looked merciless, his hands were raised and balled into fists and he towered over the small slender boy who had his arms up to stop whatever was thrown his way. The shock wore off quickly and Eddy stepped back from the boy lowering his hands. He gave him one last look before spitting in the boys direction and brushing roughly past Will out of the kitchen. The door swung shut with a loud thump. A cold unreadable expression replaced the boys fear. _"_Leave now" he said in a hollow voice, clenching his hands into fists. Will was baffled, tonight had become a mystery so fast, he had come for a routine meeting and it had been an ordinary meeting until Eddy had abruptly left the room claiming to have seen someone through the window. He had not returned and so he and the others decided to make their own way out. That was when Will had heard the disturbance in the kitchen._

_Deciding he didn't want to leave, Will stepped towards the boy but he flinched backwards. _"_You never told me your name when we met last week" Will said calmly "My name is Will I'm forty". Surprise flashed in the boys eyes before being replaced by the blank expression._

"_Why do you care?" he mumbled. Will simply shrugged and decided he had had enough of tonight; he simply wanted to go home and watch some night time telly. He turned around to leave but a voice behind him stopped him_

"_Sherlock" the boy said clearly. Will stopped and spun to face him, Sherlock shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and looked at his feet "I'm fourteen"_

"_Nice to meet you Sherlock" he held out his hand and Sherlock accepted the handshake. He felt something pressed into his hand and when he opened his hand a small silver key sat in his palm. He looked up at Sherlock who gave him a sly smile before barging past him and disappearing from the kitchen._

Will forced himself back to the present and shut the door behind him shutting out the small amount of moonlight. That wasn't the last time he had seen Sherlock but it was the last time he had attended a meeting with his father and the last time he had been near the house. He had passed Sherlock in the street six years later; he looked unhealthy and frail and only gave Will a passing glance. Will had never let go of the key, something stopped him every time he went to throw it out. Why did he give him the key? What did it open? The questions would swirl in his mind until his hand would eventually close protectively over the key and he placed it back in the bottom draw of his bedside cabinet. Will took several shaky steps through the entrance way and pulled his torch from his coat pocket. He switched it on and flashed it over the few photos that lined the walls as he walked. Many were of Victoria or Eddy and another larger boy, Will knew Sherlock had an older brother but he had never met him. There was only one photo of Sherlock, in a small rounded frame. Sherlock looked only five he was waving at the camera with a large grin on his face. Will smiled back at the young boy in the frame and continued through the entrance way up the staircase to Eddy and Victoria's room. He had never entered the room and only knew the direction there because he had witnessed Victoria run to and from the room many times.

Beautiful Victoria Holmes, her smile would make Wills stomach do flip flops and every conversation with her, every laugh, he cherished. He pushed open the door to her and her husband's room and was surprised at the amount of books piled throughout the room. Victoria loved to read, she would sit in the corner of the lounge next to the fire and read thoughout the whole meeting, Will would sneak glances at her every so often through the double windowed doors. It looked as if nothing had been touched in the room and he could see the thin layer of dust covering everything, Will opened a heavy leather book that lay on the bed, strangely enough the book was open, it was a photo album and every single picture was of Sherlock and his brother. Will glanced over the captions as he looked at the photos, 10 year old Sherlock riding the carousal at the carnival, Sherlock and Mycroft eating ice cream on the docks, 12 year old Sherlock unwrapping his new microscope, there were many more like this. Will understood why there was only one small photo of Sherlock framed in the entrance way, Sherlock's father may have hated him but his mother loved him more than anything in the world. Will sighed softly and shut the book, it was then he heard footsteps the_ t__ap, tap, tap _of expensive shoes on marble. Panic fluttered in his chest and he crept away from the bedroom door. The footsteps were slow and steady and became louder with every step. Will instinctively reached for the small rusty key in his pocket, the reason he was here. He quickly flicked his torch off and pressed himself against the wall, _I really shouldn't be here_ his sub conscious whispered. The footsteps passed and grew quieter. He sighed and quickly left the bedroom, scanning around him and listening for more footsteps. His heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest as he made his way down the stairs praying he wouldn't feel a hand on his shoulder, he didn't even want to think who else was here.

He cursed himself for being so stupid and letting his curiosity get the better of him. He had only wanted to see what the damn key opened. He would throw it out when he got home; it was going to get him into trouble eventually. He stopped suddenly before he could make it to the front door, something seemed diffrent and it caught his attention. A door was open that hadn't been when he entered. He couldn't control the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, egging him closer and closer to the open door, the huge house had fascinated him since he first stepped foot inside but he had never dared enter any room other than the dining room and kitchen. He reached out and opened it wider, it creaked loudly and he swore quietly to himself. Deciding he had done enough damage he rushed inside the room and shut the door behind him softly. He turned around and looked in wonder at the room he had stepped inside. It was spectacularly clean with only a small periodic table and a collection of dangerous looking insects framed on the walls and three bookshelves stuffed with books. In the corner sat an old worn teddy bear with a missing ear. A comfortable bed was pushed against the wall and it had been made so neat it looked as if it had been ironed. The only mess in the room was a desk with a large amount of broken test tubes, open chemistry books that Will glanced over with interest. There was a dusty microscope sitting beside a pile of slides and various dangerous looking stagnant chemicals that lined the windowsill in the corner of the room. Why hadn't anybody emptied them? Had the person left in a hurry, _the person_ Will thought suddenly. Of course, this was Sherlock's room, why hadn't it come sooner. He felt as if he was invading Sherlock's life, his childhood. In all truth he was but this was the closest he had been to knowing anything about Sherlock and he wasn't even here. It was obvious no one had set foot in his room in at least 20 years he could almost feel the dust in the air and the rest of the house was so looked after a part from its lonely three years. The conclusion was pretty simple; Sherlock had left home one night and not come back. Victoria or anyone had never set foot in his room since then. Then she had died. Tears sprung to Will's eyes and he forced them back. He hurriedly wiped away stray tears and picked up a heavy textbook filled with pages of notes in Sherlock's slanted writing, he couldn't really understand most of it, there were many chemical equations and some elements he hadn't ever heard of.

"Get out" came a voice behind him, startling him. Will froze and gripped the textbook tighter, the voice sounded low and threatening, each word was punctuated with menace and he could feel their glare burning through him. He was afraid to turn around but afraid of what would happen if he didn't. Slowly he turned to face the other intruder. The heavy textbook fell from his grip and hit the floor with a loud thud. Will's legs failed on him and his knees hit the floor painfully. Words failed him at the sight of the all too familiar face.

"Surprised to see me?"

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Thank you for reading, reviews would be appreciated and would totally make my day.


	2. Happy Birthday

Thank you for taking the time to read my story, you're all amazing :)

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_Meanwhile_

It had been three and a half years. Three and a half years since Sherlock jumped. John stared blankly at the small blue candle Mrs Hudson had bought up two hours ago.

"_I was going to bake a cake but I thought a candle would be less fussy, he hated people fussing over him anyway and you know what happened last time I made a cake"_

It flickered and spluttered before burning out, it was now a pile of wax on the kitchen table. It was Sherlock's 36th birthday today. The 6th of January. John didn't seem to realise, or care that he had been staring at a candle for two hours, he was thinking over Sherlock's last birthday. The last birthday they had celebrated together. It hadn't gone as John had planned, not only did Sherlock mistake the cake Mrs Hudson had baked him as a new subject for his experiment but he had disappeared that night to chase down a suspect and returned home late soaking wet and covered in mud forgetting the fact John had booked a table for them and Lestrade at the new Thai restaurant. It wasn't all bad that night though. Once Sherlock was presentable he had shouted him dinner at Angelo's (John ignored the fact that it was on the house) Sherlock seemed to be trying his best to make up for ruining his plans and even suggested watching a Bond film with him.

"_Look I know it didn't go as you planned"_

"_Sherlock it's –"_

"_No I know it's not fine…I was thinking we could watch your favourite Bond film tonight"_

That was as close as Sherlock got to apologising, John had learned to appreciate it and a Bond movie was a perfect apology that night, he had never heard Sherlock laugh so much as he did that night, he wasn't sure whether it was "Bond's ridiculous attempts of catching a criminal" or John's ridiculous impressions of Bond. No matter how many times people tried to tell John Sherlock was emotionless they were all so very wrong. The last thought made John chuckle lightly and he was drawn back to the present by a soft knock on the door. He lifted his head from his hand and stretched, feeling his back click in different places. He ran his hands over his face only now noticing the wetness that clung to his lashes. The soft knock came again and John answered the door shaking the stiffness from his body.

"Mary" he said relief washing over him, the thought that someone was finally here to distract him from painful memories improved his mood slightly. Mary smiled "How are you?" she asked making her way into the flat and taking off her winter coat. John didn't feel the need to reply. Mary glanced at the burnt out pile of blue wax that was Sherlock's candle before turning to John. "Happy Birthday Sherlock" she said smiling slightly. John attempted to smile back at her but his lips wobbled dangerously; he bit his bottom lip and shook his head slightly to clear the unwelcome tears. He looked up at Mary; she was watching him very carefully,

"It's not right" John said softly once he trusted himself to speak. He left it at that knowing Mary would understand. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen; John followed and took a seat back at the table.

"Tea?" Mary asked, John nodded and she flicked the jug on. An awkward silence hung in the kitchen. Mary and John had been dating for 2 years now but tonight John had nothing to say, seeing her had been a relief but now John wished she would go, he just wanted to curl up in bed and forget it was Sherlock's birthday, forget it had been three and a half years but the image of Sherlock falling was still burned permanently in his mind.

"Yes thanks" John lied. Mary flicked the kettle on and took a seat opposite John. She reached for his hands and wrapped them protectively in hers. John didn't want her to leave anymore. They stayed this way for a while, just holding hands in comforting silence until the jug flicked off. Mary stood and John's phone buzzed on the kitchen table. He sighed and looked at the number on screen. It was Mycroft. His finger hovered over the end button but curiosity made him pick up. Before he could say anything Mycroft started talking.

"John you need to get out of the flat, I can't tell you why and you can be assured I will explain everything later" Mycroft demanded in a cold firm voice. John's heart jumped and skipped several beats. He glanced towards Mary; she was stirring the tea absently. He looked away "what are you talking about?"

Mary placed his tea on the kitchen table and sat back down "Who is it?" she mouthed. John shrugged listening intently to the silence on the other end. "Don't you dare do anything stupid" Mycroft whispered to someone else on his end, he spoke to John now "I will explain later but you have to get out of the flat now John there is a car waiting" was that a hint of desperation in Mycroft's voice? The line went dead. John listened to the dial tone, something caught his eye, a movement from outside the living room window, a figure. An outline. A weapon.

_Beep beep beep beep._

Panic tore through John and he reached for Mary. She squeaked in surprise and dropped her tea. The mug smashed on the floor and there was the crack of a bullet, John threw Mary out of the way, the bullet soared past and shattered the oven door. They sprinted from the kitchen, John's nerves singing with panic. There was another crack of a bullet and John tugged Mary closer to him. He didn't know how many men there were or whether they were surrounding the house or not. Another crack, the bullet narrowly missing John's arm.

"Run!" Mary cried in desperation. He didn't know where to turn, they had to get out of the house but he wasn't sure the front door was safe to exit through. His suspicions were confirmed when the front door burst open. A large bald man barged into their flat, John spotted the gun instantly and in a split second decision he threw himself at the man. The man was knocked off balance and John dug his fingers into his wrist, the gun clattered to the floor. He snatched it up and pointed it directly over the man's chest; the man smiled showing a row of perfect pearly white teeth.

"You are very quick" he said slightly surprised he had been disarmed so fast.

"Who sent you?" John demanded never taking his eyes off the man.

"That's for me to know and you to find out" he snarled "I want the key" he said firmly walking towards John. John stayed put but placed his finger very clearly over the trigger. The man stopped his advance and gave him another menacing smile. "The what?" John asked confused. What key? The only keys he had was his flat key and Mary's house key.

"The key, you know what I mean"

"No I don't"

John's phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it. The man was glaring at John and he could feel Mary shaking next to him. He grabbed her wrist and whispered

"One"

The man's smile turned into a frown

"Two"

He advanced forward and curled his hands into fists

"Three"

John lowered the gun and pulled the trigger. It hit the large bald man in the knee and he dropped to the floor howling in pain. He tugged Mary out of the flat and down the stairs, he passed Mrs Hudson's flat, she wasn't home thank God. A sleek black car was waiting for them outside Speedy's café and they sprinted towards it. Anthea was waiting patiently in the back seat her eyes only leaving her phone when Mary got in the car. "Who's this?" she asked narrowing her eyes at Mary,

"She's with me" John said quickly. He could feel his heart beating rapidly. He closed his eyes trying to push down the memories that were beginning to surface. Gunfire, Screams, Officers shouting commands, Blood, lots of blood, Sherlock. Sherlock, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. Dead. Blood

"John!" Mary's voice cut through the painful images and sounds. Sherlock. Mary. Blood. "John!" There was someone squeezing his hand "Sherlock" he whispered without realising. His eyes flew open and the images melted into the interior of the car. He took a shaky breath as he felt reality return. Anthea was looking at him, her fingers frozen over her phone keypad. He looked to Mary. She was watching him with concern.

"Sorry" he muttered giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. He decided to turn his attention out the window, the lights of the street lamps seemed to blur together as they sped down the road. Soon the street lamps were few and far between as they drove further away from the city. Buildings disappeared into towering trees, John didn't know where they were going and he didn't care. He couldn't shake the image of Sherlock lying dead on the pavement. He shivered. The car took a sharp right turn and John guessed they had reached their destination. He looked ahead of him at the huge manor that appeared before them. It wasn't the biggest house John had seen, it looked rather untidy. It was a red brick house with a wooden porch held by two large white columns. It was a stunning house, John gazed in awe. The car rolled to a stop and Anthea led Mary and John to the huge oak door.

"Mycroft is waiting in the living room, two doors down to your right" Anthea said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key, she placed it in the lock and with one last look at both of them, pushed open the oak door. The smell of wood hit John first. The walls were covered in wood panelling; it was obviously an old house. There was a large staircase straight ahead and the walls were covered in framed photos. Mary stepped forward into the house first, John looked behind him Anthea had already made her way back to the car and it was halfway down the long gravel drive.

"It's beautiful" Mary said in amazement. John looked up. There was an old chandelier hanging from the roof providing a dim light throughout the entrance way. The floor was a dark marble, Mary's boots clicked with every step she took. John moved through the entranceway looking at the photos on the wall. There were many photos of a large boy with his parents, John recognised the boy somehow. It suddenly hit him like a train and his heart jolted uncomfortably. It was Mycroft, these were Sherlock's parents. Sherlock had never spoken of his parents, this was Sherlock's family home. John felt his knees go weak and he backed away from the photos.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked moving closer to him in case he fainted. He felt like he would when he saw a small framed picture of a boy with messy dark brown curls, Sherlock. He looked only about 5 or 6. He was grinning at the camera, waving. John placed a hand over his mouth to muffle the small gasp.

"John" Mary said softly looking from the photo to him. John ran his fingers over the photo gently; the photo was covered in dust and his fingers left tracks in the dust. Grief overwhelmed him and his eyes stung with tears, they streamed down his cheek. As John stared at the small boy he noticed how different he was from the Sherlock he had known. Had known. A lump formed in John's throat

"Let's go" Mary said taking his hand in hers. She led him away from the entranceway through the second door on the right. Sure enough Mycroft was waiting for them. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner by a warm blazing fire. He was sipping on a glass of whiskey, John cleared his throat. Mycroft didn't turn around

"Take a seat John" Mycroft said gazing at the fire. Mary moved towards him and held her hand out.

"I'm Mary" she said "You must be –"

"I know who you are Mary" Mycroft said cutting off her introduction. Mary dropped her hand in confusion. John took her hand and led her to a sofa, she sat as close to John as possible and clung to his hand. "Still haven't uninstalled the camera's in our flat yet then?" he asked. Mycroft looked up from the fire. "_Your_ flat John, and no I haven't" he smiled at Mary "Precautionary measures Mary don't be alarmed" Mycroft took a sip of whiskey and gazed into the fire again.

"It's Sherlock's birthday today" he said avoiding John's gaze.

"I know" John said, he didn't need any more reminding. Mycroft smiled "Happy birthday little brother" he raised his glass and took another sip of whiskey "Well I'm glad you're sitting down John because there is something you need to be told"

John swallowed trying to swallow the fear. Mary shifted uncomfortably beside him

"You will be told why two men tried to kill you but I think it's better if you hear it from him" Mycroft said louder than necessary, John was only sitting a chair away from him. There was a voice behind him a terrifyingly familiar one,

"John"

_No_

"Turn around John" Mycroft said firmly. John closed his eyes

_No_

He felt Mary turn around beside him. She squeezed his hand painfully. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he shook it off in horror. He jumped up and spun around to face him. Sherlock stood less than a meter away from him wearing a crisp tailored suit. John felt his stomach drop through the floor and his heart almost stopped. Sherlock was dead; there was no way he could be standing here looking at him apprehensively. John screwed his eyes shut. "No this isn't happening I'm only dreaming"

"You're not dreaming John"

"What would you know Sherlock!" he stopped unable to carry on "you're dead" he whispered his voice breaking. Sherlock stepped forward; John stepped backwards and clung to Mary who had appeared behind him. "Please John" Sherlock pleaded. Before John could think or stop himself his fist had connected with Sherlock's face. He made a gasping noise and stumbled backwards. His eyes rolled backwards and he collapsed to the floor.

"Shit" John whispered.

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Leave a review let me know what you think. Once again thanks for reading my story.


	3. Small rusty key

May I present the next chapter in the story. Thank you for reading, enjoy.

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Mary was next to Sherlock in seconds. "Jesus John you didn't need to hit him!" Mary exclaimed. No he didn't need to but he wanted to. She gave him a small shake but he didn't wake up. John didn't realize he had hit him that hard.

"Yes well give him a few minutes he'll come round" Mycroft said, he emptied his glass and placed it on the mantel piece. The shock and adrenalin wore off and John rushed to Sherlock's side. He was there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination, and it wasn't a dream. He had felt very real when he hit him. The white carpet was stained with blood and John resisted the urge to be sick, he could deal with copious amounts of blood but he couldn't handle Sherlock's. He knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. John noticed he was unusually skinny and he could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes. His face was gaunt and hollow. He didn't look very healthy and it scared John, he had never seen Sherlock look so vulnerable and weak. He swallowed back the tears that threatened him once again. "Sherlock" he said resting a hand on his face. He looked to Mary; she was dealing to Sherlock's split lip with a tissue Mycroft had handed her. John didn't feel guilty about hitting him, the bastard had left him for three torturous years alone and grieving. He had lied to him for three years, so many emotions were swirling through John's brain but the biggest was relief, he had his best friend back, Sherlock was alive, he could talk to him, laugh with him, solve crimes with him again.

"Is there somewhere we can put him until he wakes?" Mary asked

"You still have to explain why we were attacked" John said spinning to face Mycroft who was hovering over the three of them.

"You can take him across the entrance way to the first door on the left" Mycroft answered "How about a drink?" John nodded quickly; Mary helped John pick Sherlock up. Sherlock moaned softly but didn't open his eyes. John thanked Mary and follow Mycroft's directions. The door was already ajar. The room he entered was very clearly Sherlock's room. He placed Sherlock in the recovery position just to be safe on the perfectly made bed. John sat and stared around him in wonder at his best friend's childhood room. Nothing had been touched and his stuff had gathered at least ten years of dust. There were open textbooks scattered on the desk, John skimmed Sherlock's familiar handwriting and smiled. The anger he felt before went from a roaring flame to a flickering candle as he inspected Sherlock's room. John was almost afraid to leave the room; he didn't want to leave Sherlock. He was afraid if he left and came back Sherlock would have disappeared again but John made his way to the door eager to hear an explanation.

"Please don't go"

John froze, his hand on the door handle, the door half open, almost waiting for someone to stop him leaving.

"Just let me explain"

John turned around. Sherlock was awake but he hadn't moved, from where he was standing, John could see the tears sliding down his cheeks. Sherlock sat up and John closed the door. He sat down next to Sherlock. He didn't look happy, he didn't look confident or proud; he looked broken. John turned away, unable to watch Sherlock cry.

"He was going to kill you, and Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, he was going to take away everything I had and I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let him hurt you or them" Sherlock ran his hands over his hollow face and sat up. John was itching to reach out to him and hug him but it felt unnatural.

"What happened to you Sherlock?" was all he said, it was all he could think of. Sherlock looked at him, his eyes scanning John's face taking in every new wrinkle, every new gray hair. Sherlock shook his head slightly and looked away. John just stared at him. He needed an explanation but he knew he wouldn't get one tonight. Sherlock sighed and stood up, John panicked he didn't want him to leave. He stood up to, there was an awkward silence between them before Sherlock did something John wasn't expecting, he hugged him. John hugged him back; it felt as if the whole world had been glued back together. The broken glass was swept up, the clock begun ticking again, the earth began to revolve again. John didn't want to let go but Sherlock pulled away.

"I'm sorry" he said quickly, John shook his head.

"No don't apologise" he replied

"I mean for jumping of a roof, not for hugging you" Sherlock clarified. He smiled slightly as he looked at John, John nodded "Yeah I knew that" he said sarcastically feeling silly. Sherlock's smile widened and John smiled back at him. They both left the room and made their way back to the living room. Mary and Mycroft were sitting in an awkward silence; Mary looked relieved when John and Sherlock entered the room. Sherlock took a seat opposite Mycroft and stared at the fire. John sat next to Mary on the couch. No one said anything; Mycroft stood up and offered John a Whiskey which he gratefully accepted. Sherlock watched him offer the glass his eyes flickering between John and Mary. He ignored it and took a sip of Whiskey. It was stronger than expected; he coughed and put it down on the table.

"Why were we attacked" John asked breaking the silence.

"We?" Sherlock asked his gaze returning to the fire.

"Me and Mary, my fiancée" that caught Sherlock's attention. John smiled at the look on Sherlock's face, Mary gave a small wave but Sherlock ignored her. He cleared his throat and stared back into the fire.

"You want to know why two men tried to kill you?" Mycroft asked. John cleared his throat "Yes, yeah" he said stupidly.

"A body was found last night in the Thames, both Sherlock and I knew him, he was a friend of our fathers. Wrapped around his mouth was a purple scarf" Mycroft threw a deep purple scarf in John's direction; he caught it and turned it over in his hands. "It's still wet" he commented, Mycroft nodded

"Yes it happened earlier this evening, after this event this house was broken into, Sherlock found a man named William Carlton wearing the same colour scarf. I think he is part of a new crime organisation that's terrorising London, once William knew Sherlock was alive he sent two men to attempt to kill you and Mary" Mycroft finished. John looked from Mycroft to Sherlock, who still hadn't said anything or even moved. "Why?" Mary asked shifting uncomfortably,

"We don't know but you need to be on guard" Mycroft said, he stood and, giving John and Mary a small nod, left the room. Once the door had shut Sherlock sprung to life. John almost jumped in fright as he sprinted from the armchair to the couch John was sitting on.

"John you can't go back to the flat, those men are after me and they will be after you as well" Sherlock blurted out at speed. John narrowed his eyes "Why are they after me as well?" he asked. Sherlock handed him a small key

"Because they think I have given you this" he said as he handed it over. John took it and looked down at the small rusty key in his hand. At first John thought it belonged to a diary but it was too big, there was a small diamond engraved into one of the teeth. John stared at both the key and the purple scarf. He looked up at Sherlock. His eyes were steady and John could see desperation in his eyes "Will didn't send those people to kill you, someone else did"

John stared back at the key in his hand "Stay here tonight with…Mary, please" Sherlock begged, Sherlock never begged, but then again Sherlock never came back from the dead and he just proved that wrong. Dread settled in John's stomach, the night had progressed so fast it left John's head spinning. Only half an hour ago John believed his best friend was dead now he was cryptically handing him keys.

"Sherlock" was all John could say nothing he was going to say seemed to explain this situation or help it in any way.

"Just listen, when I was fourteen I discovered something I wasn't meant to. No one but my father knew about it, those men want that key because it hides what I found and they want it destroyed"

John handed the key back and stood up, he had heard enough, not only did he understand what the hell was going on but the way Sherlock was acting was unnerving. The way Sherlock looked was unnerving, everything about tonight made John want to scream or smash something. The anger returned with full force as his confusion grew, no one was going to explain anything, he and Mary had been nearly killed because of Sherlock who, in theory, should be dead, John had seen the blood, seen Sherlock lifeless on the pavement, and now he was being handed keys and being told that people wanted to kill Sherlock and himself. He felt his head would explode from the information and recent events but John swallowed his anger, he pushed it to the back of his mind. "Where are we sleeping?" he asked. John could see the tension leave Sherlock's body.

"Follow me" he replied standing up. Sherlock led them from the living room through the entranceway and up the staircase. John took his time to take in how big the house was. The hallways that led off the staircase stretched on forever it seemed. Finally Sherlock stopped outside a door.

"You can sleep here tonight" he said opening the door and gesturing to the room beyond him. It was a cosy room, obviously a guest room. The floral wallpaper was bare and it had a musty unused smell, John turned around to thank Sherlock but he was gone. John hadn't even heard him leave,

"It's lovely" Mary said throwing herself on the Queen bed in front of him "nice and cosy" she ran her hands over the duvet. "John?" she asked curiously. John stopped staring around the room and joined her on the bed "Yeah?" he replied looking at her. She wasn't looking at him, she was looking at the bedside table on top sat a deep purple scarf, exactly like the one Mycroft had thrown at him.

"Isn't that the same as the other scarf?" she asked picking it up. John took it from her and looked it up and down. In the corner, just above the fringing was a small embroidery diamond the same as on the small rusty key.


	4. Meanwhile

Once again cheers for choosing my story to read out of the thousands of others, it honestly means a lot.

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Will sprinted around the corner of the building into the dark alleyway. He reached deep into his mind, throwing away useless bits of information, searching for a way to make the men ahead of him stop. He knew the two men ahead, he used to work with them many years ago but then he had married and moved to another life. He watched the men draw guns as they neared the small flat ahead and Will panicked. He drew a shaky breath and drew his own gun, he hadn't planned on following them tonight, he may have taken his gun but that was because he had other plans. Plans that seemed to collide with this improvised one. He had originally wanted to meet with Peter Woolsey, the only man he had trusted with his secrete. He and Peter hadn't exactly started out as friends, in fact they started out hating each other, Peter was very opinionated and every plan had to involve his input. That was what Will hated about him, most of his ideas were wrong, he wasn't the brightest Crayon in the box and Will was the one who usually suffered when the plan was put in action. It wasn't until Peter saved his life that he trusted him completely. Three hours ago Peter had sent a hurried text.

_They know about the key and they know who gave it to you, can't tell you anymore, need your help –PW_

Will had thought he misread the text but there it was clear as day. How they had found out what the key was for was beyond Will, he didn't even know himself. Will knew Peter was dead; Peter always wore a gold band around his wrist, the same gold band one of the men ahead of him wore around his wrist now. The night had gone downhill since that text, his attempt to find out what the key opened in desperation had been a disaster and now Sherlock was in danger as well.

"_What does this bloody key open Sherlock? It has been in the back of my mind since the day you gave it to me!" Will shouted, his voice echoed off the empty walls of the house._

"_I can't tell you" Sherlock said, annoyingly calm. Will threw the key in his face but Sherlock only caught it with ease. "Thank you for taking care of it for me but I'll be needing it now" he said, with a sly smile Sherlock turned and left the room. Will followed him determined for an explanation, "Why did you give it to me?" he asked. Sherlock stopped and turned to face Will. _

"_Because you were the only one who bothered to tell me your name" he said. Will narrowed his eyes at him, Sherlock continued "I know what my father and your friends used to do all along, you were thieves. Identities mainly but money, jewellery, it all passed through your hands, no one would risk giving someone they had met once their name if they had a hundred different identities and thousands of things that weren't theirs but you did so obviously you trusted me, why shouldn't I trust you?" Will stared in shock at Sherlock, letting his words sink in. Sherlock simply played with the key in his hand that stupid smile still on his face. "How do you know Will is my real name if you say I have hundreds of identities?" Will said trying to throw him off. Sherlock laughed "I don't, but Eddy isn't my father's real name and you still trusted him." He tossed the key in the air and caught it, he winked at Will and left through the front door._

That was when they had arrived, carrying guns, demanding information from both Sherlock and Will, but they had found Sherlock's weakness, a man named John Watson.

"_So this John Watson has it then ae?"_

"_No"_

"_Don't lie to me I'm not stupid"_

"_He hasn't got It, you will be wasting your time" Will could hear the desperation in Sherlocks voice.  
_

"_I don't believe you"_

It was now currently 9:00 and Will was following the two men to this John Watson's house, Sherlock stayed behind, said he couldn't, Will didn't understand why but he didn't have time to argue according to Sherlock.

The men stopped, they were talking in low voices, Will wasn't close enough to hear and he was too afraid to move closer to them. One of them held up his hand suddenly. Will threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing and pressed his back against the grimy wall behind him. They stopped talking and stared around in the darkness. Will raised his gun ready to fire, his heart pounded so loud he was surprised they couldn't hear it. It seemed the whole world went silent as the two men listened. The man lowered his hand and the two started to talk again. The flat was just ahead of them; Will could see the light in the window. A woman hurried down the opposite street towards the flat, she pulled her coat around her. He prayed she wouldn't enter the flat. The two men began their ascent towards the flat. It seemed the plans had been made, Will let out the breath he had been holding and followed them. Any moment now he could shoot them but shooting one would alert the other, this task was getting more and more dangerous. The larger of the two men waited patiently outside 221B, the woman had already entered the flat, unknowing of what was about to happen. The smaller scaled the two story building and launched himself onto the balcony of 221B. It was on the larger mans signal the smaller one would shoot. Still unsure of what to do Will pulled his scarf and coat around him blocking his face from view. He walked towards the man waiting at the door. He just needed to distract the larger man from giving the signal. He had to allow time for Sherlock to inform John of the threat. The smaller man pressed his back against the balcony wall safe from John and the woman's view.

"Do you know where I could find St James Park?" he asked the large man.

"Piss off" The large man spat.

"No need to be so rude" Will said looking at his shoes to avoid his gaze. The large man didn't reply. He looked up briefly. The man wasn't looking directly at him; he was looking down at his scarf covering his mouth and nose. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

"Nice scarf you got there, where did you get it from?"

Will's heart jumped and he sucked in a breath, the cold causing him to cough. _Damn it!_ Why had Will decided to wear the purple scarf? He should have left all sentiment at home. "Got it from that new shop down the road. The man frowned "It's a very rare kind of scarf, in fact not many shops sell purple scarf's with a particular diamond by the fringe" he said leaning closer to Will. Now he was panicking, his hand shook as he reached into his pocket for his gun. "Oh I don't think so Will; violence won't be necessary" he smiled "From you anyway." Will was done for, the man waved a hand towards the balcony and a gunshot cut through the city sounds. Will screwed his eyes shut as another one echoed down the street. Will turned around to leave, he was going to bolt, he had failed, John was dead and so was the woman, he had to save himself. A hand snaked around his arm and yanked him backwards. Will yelped in fright and pain. The man waved a hand towards the balcony and the smaller man scaled the building, he landed behind Will, he was surrounded now.

"Stay here" the man snarled. Two hands gripped Wills arms holding them painfully against his sides. There was no way he could reach his gun now. He could feel the man's breath on his neck making him shiver. The larger man threw himself at the door, it broke away easily. Will had problems of his own at the moment; he ignored the woman's frightened scream he could hear through the smashed window and focused on his own situation. Suddenly they were moving, Will tried to grip onto something on the wall but there was nothing, his fingernails scraped painfully over the brick. He was dragged around the corner into the darkness of the alley. He opened his mouth to scream, a sleek black car pulled up outside the flat; unfortunately they would only find dead bodies. A hand was thrown over his mouth gagging him. _Shit, shit, shit_ Panic tore through Will, he desperately tried to get the man off him but he never had been taught fighting skills like the rest of them so he ended up flailing desperately as the man laughed in his ear. He wanted to scream to the car that he needed help, that they should abandon John and help him but the hand over his nose and mouth was disabling him. He couldn't even open his mouth to bite the hand. He was struggling for breath; suddenly he was dropped painfully on the hard cold ground. The smaller man stood over him. When Will said smaller he meant smaller than the other man, this man was a good six feet tall and it seemed he was built of mere muscle and bones. Will was only 5 foot 3. To scared to move Will lay on the ground staring up at him.

"Is this what we are now?" Will asked hoping to appeal to the man's emotions "We were thieves not murderers!" he spat. The man laughed.

"This is why we never let you back in, we have a new leader, better than that stupid Holmes man, we are going to take London" a boot connected with Wills face and he heard the sickening crunch, he grasped his face, searing pain rushed through his face blurring his vision. Warm blood burst from his nose. He attempted to get up but the man pushed him down with his boot, Will stayed down unable to move from the pain. He heard the gun being loaded, _No please no._ Will begged he curled into a ball and wished it would end quickly. There was a loud echoing bang and Will felt the bullet rip through his skin. The last thing he saw before blackness and pain consumed his was two figures running from the building a man and a woman, the larger man was nowhere to be seen. They bolted into the car and it skidded from the curb to safety. Will couldn't help but smile.

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Once again thanks for reading. Leave a review let me know what you think, feedback would help bucket loads


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